Tales of Karazhan
by Ryuuko1
Summary: Daily life in Karazhan is far from boring...
1. The Danger of Having an Apprentice

**Author**: Hi guys. I come bearing more fic, this time of the Medivh-variety. Light, the man has grown on me...seems like a lot of characters do that... :/

**Disclaimer**: lawl not mine

**Rating**: PG-13 for safety's sake, although you could say it's PG.

~Tales of Karazhan~

The boy was dangerous.

Medivh finished his sentence and closed his book, the binding snapping securely shut.

Khadgar was smart. _Extremely_ smart, in fact. Medivh was occasionally delighted to have him as an apprentice, but it remained that intelligence was a danger.

Admittedly, he was oddly innocent, which was his charm and the reason why Medivh hadn't added him to the secrets of Karazhan. While he could make his own spells and demand the Tower to give up some of its secrets, he _believed_ in Medivh. Believed that Medivh could be trusted, regardless of his peculiarities.

It flattered him and made a small spark of something other than consuming darkness flutter through his soul. It was an odd sensation, and brought up memories of his childhood, of days when _he_ had believed in people.

Before he had been thrust into the abilities that had laid dormant within him since his birth, both gift and curse. Before the _need_ for knowledge and power that drove him to throw away those who came too close to the truth for comfort or attempted to outright deceive him.

He could always spot a spy, and they were the first to fall to Karazhan's unique nature_._

Khadgar had initially been a spy, but he had relaxed into the hungry pursuit of knowledge and power, a hunger that Medivh knew quite well.

But that hunger was dangerous.

_I__'__ll__ have __to __find __a __way __to __stymie __him,__perhaps __send __him__ on __a__ wild __goose__ chase __for __some__ obscure __and __useless __spell._

Medivh stroked his beard as he thought while the other hand played with the cloth of his sleeve.

"Master?"

Medivh looked to his apprentice as he entered and quirked an eyebrow, although he was surprised at the tiny trickle of genuine _pleasure_ he felt at seeing the youth. "Yes?"

Khadgar walked over to the table and plopped a rather large tome on the wood and flipped open to a page that had obviously been looked at, and looked at, and looked at again, ad nauseum.

Medivh walked to the table and crossed his arms when Khadgar pointed to an incantation.

"It's missing a word, and I've been working at it for nearly a week, but I can't figure out what it is. Can you offer any help?"

_Perfect!_ He thought, but was horrified to find himself saying, "I suppose."

_No, no, I can't help him!_

But the way Khadgar's entire posture slouched slightly in relief and the small smile that formed on his lips made Medivh want to smile as well.

There was something _about_ Khadgar. Medivh wanted to see him succeed and utterly fail. He wanted to see how far he could push the youth before he crumbled and became just another grain of sand in the hourglass.

He listened to Khadgar explain his thoughts and magical paths, and while Medivh knew that they all would lead to dead ends—as they had—it was still a testament to the boy's ingenuity.

_Perhaps __this__ is__ why__ he __hasn__'__t __been __bothering __me __all __week,_ he thought before he corrected that thought with the reminder that he had been working…elsewhere…for the past seven days.

"It is unfinished."

Khadgar blinked when Medivh interrupted him in his discourse. "Sir?"

"The spell. It's unfinished. See?" Medivh said and pointed to a word. "This creates a link, but that link is unspecified by any of the following words, which is why everything has fallen flat. The purpose of the spell needs to be determined before a result can be declared."

Khadgar blinked and his mouth formed an 'o' before it shut and his brow furrowed in concentration. "The phrasing and evocations are archaic."

"But still potent and sensible enough to be used. Now, discover a purpose for the spell and complete it."

_Ah, good._

Khadgar looked briefly annoyed before his features smoothed out into pure determination. "Very well," Khadgar replied before he snapped the book shut and hefted it beneath his arm. "With your leave."

Medivh watched the muttering boy go and couldn't help the small smirk that formed on his lips.

_Busy-work __that __is __productive,_ he thought with satisfaction

_Busy-work__ that __could__ lead __to__ terrible __things_.

Medivh sighed and shrugged. _It__ can __be __taken __care __of __when__ it __needs __to __be __taken __care __of.__ For __now,__ I __have __a__ world __to __destroy._


	2. After the Opening

**Author**: Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it (11/24/11)! I present to you another tale of Medivh to read when digesting too much food.

**Disclaimer**: lol

**Tales of Karazhan: After the Opening**

Medivh felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders and he slumped into his chair, utterly exhausted.

He pushed back his hood and ran his hand through his hair as his other hand rested on the table beside him.

_It has been done._

His entire body felt raw, and even though he had been assisted on Draenor by Gul'dan's warlocks—warlocks, _plural_—he alone had shouldered the burden of power to connect from Azeroth.

_Although,__ that__ was__…__intriguing,_ he thought with a small smile. _That __other__ mortal __races__ would __seek __to _assist _me __in __opening __my __portal__—__especially __the __human __I __saw __in __their __ranks__…_

Medivh leaned back and tapped his fingers together. _But __what __were __those __dragons __and __dragonkin? __They __were __certainly __not __from __the __Black __Dragonflight. __Their __insistence __on __my __death __was__ not __remarkable, __but __the __ways __they __phrased __certain __things__…_

Medivh sighed and closed his eyes, a headache forming. His breathing stopped and his hand lashed out to curl around a grain of time. He let out a long breath as he brought the image to him. With a whispered word the grain of vision expanded until it encompassed him.

He felt the wind drive particles of sand against his skin, he standing in a foreign land, one that belonged to the world, but unfamiliar.

He was given only the briefest glimpse of bronze dragons, twisting and beautiful time-lines, and a feeling of deep power before he was tossed out of the vision with a violence that nearly toppled him out of his chair.

**Stay in your own time, avatar of Saegras.**

Medivh found himself breathing heavily before a maniacal laugh passed his lips. "My legacy shapes the very fabric of this world!" he laughed breathlessly before the laughter died. "However, that shows that humanity survives. Curses!" he snarled before he stood quickly, knocking the chair and a few objects nearby onto the floor.

"My hard work will be undone! Humanity will live!"

He paced and muttered in the demonic tongue to himself before his steps slowed. "But the future can be changed," he murmured. "And humanity's motivation is always unclear and fickle. Humanity could survive—but who's to say how _much_ survives and what conditions they live in?"

Medivh stroked his beard, then righted his chair, placed his books and instruments back on the table, and cleaned up whatever had broken.

"I have much to think about," he murmured to himself before he gestured and left his darker laboratory for his chambers higher in the tower.

He would rest and regain his strength.

And then he would watch humanity _burn._


	3. Vision

**Author:** Just another little short. There is no order to the chapters, kind of like how Karazhan's time-flow works.

**Disclaimer**: lawl

~Tales of Karazhan: Vision~

Medivh blinked.

The person across from him looked equally surprised, although it would take a trained eye to see it. Medivh was certain that he was in a vision, but it felt like a memory from the future. The man simply looked too _familiar_ for Medivh to not know him, but he had no idea when or where he'd associate with such a shoddy, shady-looking character. He was obviously a wanderer, a drifter, and probably a little off his rocker, someone who Medivh wuld either turn away from the Tower or let him become one of the ghosts.

Still, there was something…odd…about him. Something that piqued his curiosity.

"Do I know you?" Medivh asked and the older man across from him jumped before he smiled slowly, the expression wry and somehow self-deprecating.

"I would take this opportunity to attempt to dissuade you from following the path Saegras leads you, but I know it would be useless," the man murmured.

Medivh frowned. The voice was itchingly familiar, he had heard it somewhere before, he _knew_ it, and it frustrated him beyond belief that the answer wavered just out of reach.

"If a former Guardian and a blue dragon were unable to stop me, I'm sure that a vision such as yourself couldn't," Medivh drawled.

The man reached out and placed a hand on Medivh's shoulder, which surprised Medivh—no vision should be able to touch him.

_This is more the memory, then, more than vision. It is a place-between dreams and waking, wishes and reality. This man is as real and alive as I am, and we reach to each other across the ages._

Medivh found himself oddly paralyzed as familiar jade eyes held his own. "Don't let Saegras convince you to rid yourself of the one precious and good thing in your life. Don't let him convince you to destroy your last hope," the man quietly implored, a sad desperation in his eyes.

Medivh frowned, but before he could reply the image wavered and frayed apart into a flock of ravens.

Medivh brushed shed raven-feathers out of his sight and felt his body go cold, and his legs abruptly gave out from under him. He reached to his chest and looked up sharply when it came into contact with steel and blood. He saw a number of figures before him—he recognized Lothar struggling to his feet, but the one who held the sword that was piercing his heart was unfamiliar.

"Thank you," he found himself whispering once he got around the metallic tang of blood and life in his mouth, although a thousand other things were clattering around in his head, begging to be said. "I fought it for as long as I could…"

He felt something bite into the back of his neck, and what remained with him as he staggered, shuddering, out of the vision-reality was the sad, resigned betrayal in the eyes of a young man turned old and a name that resounded in his heart, mind, and soul, the name of the one who would bring him both salvation and complete destruction:

_Khadgar._


	4. Names

**Author**: This is a favorite topic of mine to explore, oddly enough.

**Disclaimer**: lawl

**~Names~**

"Master."

Medivh looked up from pushing the food around on his plate and quirked an eyebrow at Khadgar. "Yes?"

"When is your birthday?"

Medivh frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious. What about you, Cook, Morose? When are your birthdays?"

Medivh saw his two servants look at each other in brief bewilderment before Cook said, "I honestly don't know. Time moves so strangely in here that I may be an young girl and not even know it!"

That made Khadgar frown as much as it made Medivh smile faintly.

"Do you know, master?" Khadgar addressed Medivh, turning to face him.

Medivh shrugged. "Much is lost in Karazhan."

Khadgar frowned. "I tend to keep a good track of things."

"Not everything that is lost is physical," Medivh replied.

Khadgar paused to place a bite of food in his mouth and chewed it as he thought.

"So…" Khadgar said after he swallowed, "Information might be lost? Time, perhaps?"

"Among other things," Medivh affirmed.

Khadgar tapped his fork against the edge of his plate before a thought obviously dawned on him. "I can't imagine someone naming their child Cook or Morose. Might they have lost their real names?" Khadgar asked, mild horror mixed with intrigue coloring his voice.

"I am who the master calls me," Morose said tonelessly as he finished his meal and dabbed the corners of his mouth daintily. "It doesn't matter anymore if I've been named anything else in the past. Or future. Whichever comes first."

Khadgar was obviously both terrified and enraptured. "Have others come before, who've lost their name? What happens if you lose your name?" Khadgar asked, both to no-one and to Medivh.

Medivh put down his fork and caught Khadgar's eyes. "If I called you 'dog', would you respond?"

Khadgar frowned. "No."

"What if I called you Varian?"

"No."

"What if I kept on calling you something, would you eventually respond to it?"

"You call me 'Young Trust' all the time, and I respond to it," Khadgar replied, obviously latching on to the lecture.

"Why?"

Khadgar frowned. "It is a translation of my name, and, well, I am younger than you."

Medivh waved his hand dismissively. "Age is a state of mind, a malady of the body. What if I kept on calling you something that wasn't your _current_ name or a translation?"

"I'd be annoyed, but I'd eventually know you were talking to me when you used that name."

"So you would, at least in part, accept that name as it belonging to you."

Khadgar frowned. "I…suppose?"

"Let's say that you're somewhere without outside contact, or in a place where you can't tell others your name and who do not know you. Would you eventually stop thinking of yourself as 'Khadgar', and perhaps by this other name?"

Khadgar frowned and crossed his arms, obviously thinking hard, his dinner forgotten.

"I would have no choice but to respond by who they knew me as, but I'd always be Khadgar," he replied slowly. "I wouldn't be…" Khadgar trailed off as his mind stubled over an idea. "Are you saying that I would no longer be _Khadgar_ because I'd stop thinking of myself as attached to that name?"

Medivh nodded slightly. "Names have power. The minute you stop thinking of yourself as 'Khadgar' is the moment that Khadgar dies and a new person is born."

Khadgar was obviously deeply troubled by the thought. "So, Khadgar can die without ever physically dying?"

Medivh smiled faintly. "What do _you_ think?"

Khadgar licked his lips before he whispered, "Names have been lost here."

Medivh pushed his plate away, finished pretending he was hungry. "Why do you think Karazhan has so many ghosts?"

Medivh stood as Khadgar stared at him.

"Sleep well, my apprentice," Medivh murmured smoothly, a small, malicious smirk on his face. "Try not to get lost on the way."


	5. Heir

**Author**: I kinda want to turn this into a longer story, but I can only see it becoming ridiculous and time-consuming, and I'm not sure where I'd go with it.

**Disclaimer**: Blizz has the copyright.

**~Heir~**

Medivh turned the astroglobe over in his hands as the stars above him wheeled about in their sacred cosmic dance. He was more pensive than usual, and had dismissed Khadgar and Morose and forgone dinner in favor of his thoughts, the future unduly bothering him.

_I__ will __have __a __son,_ he thought as he put the instrument down. _His __name __will __be __Med__'__an. __I __hadn__'__t __thought __Garona __would __include __a __part __of __my __name __in __his, __but __I __am __unfamiliar __with __orcish __naming __customs._

The knowledge meant little to Medivh. Med'an was simply a means to an end, a child created to fulfill prophecy and necessity. Medivh would never know the boy, and harbored neither remorse nor affection for the child he had helped create.

_Like__ mother __like __son, __I __suppose_, he thought distantly as he watched the stars whirl around his head without care for the mortals far below.

Still, the world would need Med'an, and the vows of a Guardian still struggled to live within Medivh, so he would do something to help the humans he perversely wanted to see eliminated.

_But__ when __we__ finally __meet, __nothing __but __an __echo __of me will exist__,_ Medivh thought, brow furrowing. _So __much __will __be __lost __to __time! __So __much __of __my __knowledge, __my __research, __my __discoveries, __will __fade __into __the __void. __I__ can__'__t __let __that __happen. __There _must _be__ a __way__…_

Medivh began to pace the circumference of his observatory. _Books __can __get __lost, __relics __can __be __broken, __I __can__'__t __trust __anything_ physical_, __but __then __what__…__?_

The answer, when it came to him, should have been obvious.

_Of__ course,_ he thought with mild satisfaction. _Khadgar__ has __been__ apprenticed __to __me __so __I __may __pass__ on __my __knowledge. __It__'__s __only __fair __that __he __receives __it._

Medivh gestured and reappeared standing in a balcony over the library proper. He smiled faintly, the expression slightly mad as he walked leisurely, carefully down the ramp. He found, to his amusement, his apprentice deep asleep, hunched and sprawled over a book, papers scattered around him.

Medivh smiled quietly and lightly rested his hand on Khadgar's head.

"When you pierce my heart with steel, all my knowledge will be passed on to you," he murmured in less than a whisper. "It will live in you, grow in you so slowly that it would seem simply like natural progress. However, when you meet A'dal, my knowledge will go into hibernation. It wouldn't be good for you to be remembering darker magicks in the presence of a being of such Light."

Medivh ran his fingers carefully through Khadgar's hair. "But you will eventually be called back to here, back from the Outland, to be an advisor and to help guide the disparate races of the Alliance...of this _world_. You will begin to remember again, slowly, slowly…and eventually you will have the whole of my knowledge and spells."

He rested a hand softly on Khadgar's shoulder. "My echo will give Med'an what remains, both in power and in knowledge, but _you_ are the legacy to my magic, Khadgar, _not_ my son."

Khadgar stirred slightly and muttered something incomprehensible before he returned to deep slumber.

Medivh smiled, and was surprised by the gentle nature of the gesture and the quiet affection he felt for the boy he had taken under his wing.

"The day that you kill me is the day that you become my heir," Medivh murmured and a word settled magic into Khadgar's skin, magic, _soul_, and tied him to Medivh in a way that was unnoticeable, too subtle and insidious.

_Certainly __with __more __finesse __than __my __mother,_ he thought dryly.

Medivh paused as he removed his hand, looked at the book, looked at the peacefully slumbering boy, and grinned maliciously.

He carefully set his Greatstaff to the ground, rubbed his hands, then held them right beside Khadgar's ear.

He murmured a word before he clapped his hands.

The sound rang through the library like a gun-shot, and Khadgar was immediately up and tripping over himself. The youth fell gracelessly to the floor, and a few books flopped onto him from the violence of the motion.

When Khadgar finally moved a rather hefty volume off of his head to give Medivh a dazed look, Medivh gave his apprentice a toothy smile and said, "You were drooling on my books."


	6. Dark Visions

**Author**: So, yeah. Finished my personal statement and writing sample. So, now Medivh!

**Disclaimer**: Medivh belongs to Medivh, but the copyright is Blizzard's.

**~Dark Visions~**

"Well, that's interesting," Medivh said aloud as he kicked a pebble—which actually responded to the physical stimulus. Medivh had always had a more physical presence in memories and visions, which he supposed was an effect of the Dark One who owned most of his soul.

"Master?"

Medivh looked over to his composed and curious apprentice, the boy obviously intrigued by Medivh's physicality in the vision.

"We shouldn't be able to influence things if this is a vision—unless we've been transported somewhere to another physical place in the world," Khadgar said.

Medivh shrugged and carefully breathed in the air. It smelled of magic, dark power, death, and decay. "Many rules don't bother to apply to me."

"Where _are_ we?" Khadgar asked with a mixture of horror and wonder in his voice as he looked around.

It _was_ odd, the juxtaposition in their surroundings.

He and Khadgar stood in the middle of a wide swath of utter corruption, any thing that may have been living broken down and destroyed; however, to their sides was a healthy, verdant forest of golds and greens and life. Medivh wasn't sure which was natural or unnatural, though, since one was sustained by the arcane, the other by…something else. Something that was intriguing and seductive, which Medivh wanted to take in his hands and mold until he understood it.

Even though he knew he never would, as such power would eternally be out of his grasp.

Medivh looked ahead of them, paused, then said, "Come."

He didn't wait to see if Khadgar followed him, but knew from the quick and hesitant footfalls said that his apprentice had. The ground was still warm with magic and Medivh felt death pulling at his heels, seeking to sap the life from him. However, Khadgar was safe, being a ghost in the vision, which was good. Khadgar didn't have an eons-old demon sharing his body, afterall, and Medivh needed the boy alive.

"This is incredibly dark magic," he heard Khadgar murmur as they passed a corpse twisted beyond anything nature could dream.

Medivh nodded. "It's a necromancy unlike any other I've seen or done. This is the work of a true master of the art."

"Wait, you've—nevermind, of course you have."

Medivh knelt and picked up a piece of cloth, a banner that covered a skeleton that was blackened from arcane fire. It looked like that of Azeroth, of Lordaeron, but modified to be a desecration of the symbol.

_Interesting_.

Medivh heard Khadgar cry out in horror and looked up to see creatures like he had never come across before barreling towards a distant gold and red city.

Giant bundles flesh sewn together and given some form of minimal consciousness lumbered across the ground as ghouls, skeletons, and zombies staggered forward, all following a figure with deep black armor and bone white hair who rode a skeletal horse.

"Closer."

He could _feel_ his apprentice's disbelief, but the youth fell in behind him regardless.

Each step of the undead left the ground tainted and defiled, and Medivh knew that nothing good would ever come from it again, which sent a small trill of amusement flutter through him.

_I__ would __love __to __see__ how __much __the __people __of __this __land __will __try __to__ cleanse __this. __But __this __wound __will __never __heal, __only __scar. __How _tragic_…_

Medivh turned his head to see elven rangers and soldiers strive to keep the inexorable tide of darkness from the city that sat not too far away. Their actions were desperate, and the orders that flew between them spoke of panic and despair.

"They're losing!"

Medivh nodded, impressed.

_Who could this be that leaves such casual desecration in his wake?_

"Closer," Medivh said and picked up his pace.

Medivh saw that many corpses were those of Quel'dorei, the High Elves, whose tongue had given him his name, and he had to suppress a smile at how they were being raised and turned against friends and family.

_How __disheartening,__ to__ have __to __kill __a __mother __or __sister,_ he thought with satisfaction. _Whoever__ this __is __knows __how __to __inflict __suffering._

He and Khadgar walked through the throngs of slavering undead, Khadgar keeping close to Medivh. Even though he obviously knew that the undead couldn't hurt him, aware that he was a distant memory in the future he was observing, it didn't make it any less terrifying.

Eventually, he and Khadgar made their way to the figure on horseback—who Medivh immediately recognized, though he had never met him before, and never would in his current form.

"Arthas Menethil," he whispered and the man's head whipped around. Their eyes caught and the death knight gave him a skeletal smile, eyes mad with power and zeal.

"I will scourge the living from this land!"

With that grim, gleeful proclamation, Medivh found himself back in the library, a trembling Khadgar clinging to his sleeve.

He didn't blame the youth, really. It took a trained necromancer to see the beauty in all that death.

_A __noble __goal,_ Medivh thought as he pondered the vision. _Perhaps __he __will __succeed__ where __I __will __fail._

"Master?"

"Yes?" Medivh replied, and was surprised at how gentle his voice was.

"Is that…will that…?"

Medivh looked at the youth who was pale with fright and disgust, but who had also looked the darkness of undeath in the eye and hadn't flinched from it.

"That vision is true," Medivh said with certainty. "It _will_ happen."

"Nothing is certain! Someone _must_ be able to stop it, maybe—"

"Khadgar," Medivh said harshly, and the youth immediately quieted. "That vision is many years in the future. Neither you nor I will be able to influence it, either in the present or in time to come."

"Who was he?"

"He was a death knight," Medivh replied, tasting the title. It was a good title, befitting a harbinger of doom, misery, and undeath. "And as to why he would seek to scourge the world…perhaps the world needs cleansing. Perhaps the clockwork needs to be broken."

"Master, you can't be—"

Medivh shook his head, and Khadgar quieted once more, obviously troubled. "What will be will be. It is better to attend to the present than to get lost in the future. A present which, I believe, includes you demonstrating your mastery of the spells you claim to understand."


	7. Changes

**Author**: This amused me more than it should have.

**Disclaimer:** Medivh belongs to Medivh, but the copyright belongs to Blizzard.

**~Changes~**

Medivh sighed in dismay. _Well,__ this __is __inconvenient._

"Master?"

Medivh watched his apprentice enter his chambers and frown. The youth murmured something to himself—a habit that anyone who lived in the Tower for any length of time picked up—as he walked carefully around the room.

Medivh sat down slowly behind the one-way mirror and scowled at his suddenly slighter hands.

_Inconvenient, __but __interesting,_ he amended mentally as he stroked his beardless chin.

He shifted in his seat and had to bite down a snicker. His body was drowning in his robes, his shoulders nearly falling off his slighter frame. He was glad that he had maintained the same height, but his robes were tight in places they hadn't been tight before and loose in places they hadn't been loose before. He stood slowly and swallowed a laugh as his sleeves dropped over the tips of his fingers.

The physical changes didn't end at the superficial—the new concoction of chemicals that ran through his bloodstream was bewildering. He could feel his magic fluctuating, uncertain of how to conform to its vessel's new physicality and it was more than his clothing that was being pulled and pinched in different ways.

He tapped his fingers together in thought and smiled wryly.

_Well,__ at __least __I __now __know__ why __a __female __mage__'__s __powers __seem __to __fluctuate __so __badly,_ he thought distantly and poked at the cloth across his chest. A flicker of thought and power let it out and his robes shifted on him before settling into a new configuration that made him nod.

His apprentice left, obviously frustrated and Medivh exited his hiding spot. He polished a silver dish that he had left in his room and expanded it into a full-body mirror.

He pulled down his hood and ran his fingers over a different facial structure and admired his new body.

_Well, this is no worse than that time I turned myself into a penguin. At least I have all human characteristics this time. And I don't have half a laboratory to piece back together. Nor do I have to deal with the addition of an entirely new wing._

Medivh turned to view himself in profile and couldn't stop himself from laughing, and the sound of his new voice made him laugh even harder, until he was having trouble breathing. He sat down in a chair as he caught his breath and felt his lips curve up in a mischievous smile.

_Morose won't even blink, and Cook will fret for a little before finding acceptance within her as well. It's not as if they can do otherwise, anyway._

He picked up the parchment he had written the spell on and waved his hand over it to reveal the writing before he took his quill in hand and tapped the feather against his fuller lips.

_It was probably something miniscule. An inflection in a word, perhaps a gesture that was slightly off. Was I distracted by something?_

Medivh went carefully over every word, wrote out the diacritics and phonetic pronunciation of each word, and made sure it matched with the meaning he had intended.

_It__ must __have __worked __in __part, __since __Khadgar __responded __to __the__ summons __within __minutes. __True, __it __was __meant __to __make __him __physically __port __to __before __me, __so what __could__ have __gotten __lost __or__ changed __to __have_ this _effect?_

Medivh tapped the feather against the paper and pondered his previous thoughts.

"Master."

Medivh looked up when he heard Morose and quirked an eyebrow at the man. "Yes?"

"Will you be taking your meal here tonight?"

Medivh shrugged. "Maybe. Have it ready for me, and if I'm not down an hour after the meal was scheduled to start, bring it here; however, I don't foresee me not going down."

Morose nodded. "As the master wishes. Should I warn Cook?"

Medivh nodded absently as the memory niggled at the edge of his consciousness. "Yes, but mention nothing to my apprentice."

Morose bowed himself out, and left Medivh to his thoughts again.

_I was thinking about Khadgar—naturally, since I would have to be focusing on him to bring him to me, at least the first time. What unintended thought could have slipped in?_

Medivh frowned in deep thought before his face abruptly broke into a wicked smile.

_What __a __thought __to __have! __Have__ I __actually __begun __to __care __about __the __boy?__ Have __I __begun __to __think __of __him __as __a __member __of __my __household? __Has __he __become _that _much __of __a __fixture?_

It had been a frivolous thought, something that he would have unconsciously dismissed before it even made its way into his mind. It was amusing to Medivh on two levels—one, that Khadgar would ever have a girlfriend, and, two, that Medivh would be possessive enough to want to prevent that from ever happening.

_The boy is already in the palm of my hand. What have I to fear from anyone or anything else?_

Still, the notion of 'girlfriend' had briefly been adjunct to 'Khadgar', but with the intent, structure, and power of the spell, it hadn't changed Khadgar into a girl—although that would have been absolutely _priceless_—instead, the backlash of wavering focus and intent had hit Medivh, which resulted in Medivh being forced into a female form.

He smoothed out the cloth of his robe over his newly-acquired bosom and snickered quietly.

_Then perhaps the manner with which to fix this is by banishing Khadgar from me._

As Medivh was beginning to pen the opposite spell, a thought snuck into his head:

_Or perhaps keep the spell the way it is and think of Khadgar having a boyfriend instead._

Medivh blinked.

It was an intriguing notion. From what Medivh knew, the boy hadn't left anyone behind in Dalaran, and had never shown interest in anything other than his studies even then.

Medivh had thoroughly removed himself from romance. He could do without those entanglements, and it was safer for both his short and long-term plans to keep anyone from getting _too_ close.

But, that didn't mean Khadgar was going to choose the same life, and Medivh, surprisingly, felt distantly bad if he forced it on the youth.

Medivh placed both parchment and quill down and crossed his arms as he thought.

_Suppose Khadgar does take a girlfriend or boyfriend. What then?_

The notion roused a strangely strong feeling of possessiveness and jealousy. Khadgar was _his_, was his apprentice, and no-one would distract him or take him away. Medivh simply didn't share, and the truly terrible thing was that he had already thought of five different ways of adding any hypothetical lovers to Karazhan's secrets.

It was more troubling than his changed form and left Medivh rubbing his fingers together in nervous contemplation.

_The boy is destined to kill me. Why do I care about him enough to feel jealous?_

Medivh shook his head and sighed softly. _Let__'__s__ just __see __about __reversing __this __spell._

However, wearing a female's skin offered him too many opportunities for insight into a topic that he had believed would be entirely out of his reach. The reversal of the spell wouldn't be too difficult, so could be shelved.

"Master?"

"What?" Medivh replied, distracted, mapping out the paths of magic within him.

"You missed dinner."

His apprentice spoke carefully, obviously wary, and Medivh pulled out of himself and turned to face him before he gestured to a spot on a table that wasn't covered in his notes and books. "Put it there. I'll attend to it later."

Medivh caught Khadgar staring at him and was briefly puzzled before he laughed. "Oh, Light, you should see your face right now!"

"Master, are you—"

"A woman?" Medivh finished for him.

Khadgar nodded mutely and Medivh stood, walked around his chair, and stopped a few paces away from Khadgar, who was scrambling for his composure, a blush fading from his cheeks.

"I wouldn't have pinned you as going for older women," Medivh said slyly.

"Master, it's not—"

Medivh's face slowly pulled into a wicked smile. "You find me attractive."

"No! I'm just surprised," Khadgar replied huffily, although he looked everywhere but at Medivh.

"I don't blame you," Medivh said and looked down at his new body. "I think I make a rather fetching woman, too."

Khadgar muttered something about Medivh's opinion of himself that made Medivh chuckle darkly.

"Do you know how to undo it?" Khadgar asked, curiosity slowly winning over embarrassment.

Medivh nodded and took his dinner out of Khadgar's hands. "Of course I do, but this is too good an opportunity to pass up!"

"Opportunity?" Khadgar asked curiously as Medivh walked to his desk and placed the dinner down.

"Women use and harness magic differently from men. Their power fluctuates—sometimes quite drastically—and I theorized that it was tied to their physiology, but I'm certain that's the case now. Magic responds to their call differently, as they respond to it differently from how men intuit magic. Since most women don't take kindly to being used as research subjects, no man has really had the chance to fully explore the differences and similarities. Now I have that ability! Fascinating, don't you think?"

The look on Khadgar's face said he wasn't entirely convinced, but was capable of seeing Medivh's point.

"What about if you need to see people?"

The smile that formed on Medivh's face was borderline insane. "I'm planning on staying like this until I've completed all the research I want to do. I can't _wait_ to see the look on Lothar and Llane's faces!" he cackled.

Medih saw Khadgar shake his head in resigned exasperation.

"Where's your sense of fun?" Medivh jibbed.

"I don't see the 'fun' in traumatizing your friends," Khadgar drawled, which made Medivh snicker.

"But the faces Lothar makes when I do something like this are _priceless__…_"

"I'm surprised they're still your friends," Khadgar grumbled.

"It's my charm," Medivh said cheerfully before his voice and expression dropped into something more dangerous. "Or so I'd like to think. I know why they really keep me around." Medivh's smile was bitter and mocking. "It's easier to keep tabs on the most dangerous and powerful mage in existence when they're my friends."

Khadgar shifted on his feet and he murmured a quiet apology, which Medivh waved away.

"Since you're here and the warming spell on my food isn't going to dispel anytime soon, why don't you show me what you've been up to today?"


	8. Counterspell Boredom

**Author**: Me and Medivh had a brief fling again. I think he's taken a liking to me. It's mildly flattering.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned WoW, Medivh would show up in more than just a ghost in Karazhan.

**Counterspell Boredom**

"Why'd you light his hair on fire?" Lothar muttered as Medivh feigned innocence convincingly to all but those who were familiar with him.

"I didn't do that!" Medivh protested, righteous indignation in his voice as he stood prudently out of the way.

"Then what _did_ you do?" Lothar drawled, turning his attention from the irate ambassador to his friend.

"I cast counterspell," Medivh answered simply, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh? On what?" the warrior inquired, incredulity thick in his voice.

The smile that had been threatening on Medivh's face bloomed into a full grin. "Counterspell boredom."

Lothar blinked then sighed and shook his head. "Why did I even bother asking…"

"You know, you're lucky that you have friends in high places and that your father is the court conjurer," Llane said as he walked over, his arms crossing over his chest. The boy already carried a regal air that Medivh felt would only mature in the years to come.

Medivh buffed his nails against his tunic. "You were bored, too."

"Still, that doesn't mean that you can maim heads of state," Llane reproached.

Medivh shrugged nonchalantly. "It's nothing that can't be fixed," Medivh replied. "It didn't even _hurt_ him. Just startled him."

"How can you be so sure?"  
>"I'm already one of the strongest—if not <em>the<em> strongest—mage in Azeroth, perhaps in _any_ of the Eastern Kingdoms," Medivh drawled.

"So you admit to it?"

"Did I say anything of the sort?" Medivh replied, contained mischief in his voice.

Llane sighed. "I had forgotten why we never took you to political functions."

Medivh laughed. "There's never a dull moment with me around, for certain."

Llane gave him a look of exasperated amusement as Lothar shook his head in resignation.

Medivh gave them a cheerful smile. "Come, come. There are better things to be doing that sitting inside being bored out of our skulls."

Medivh caught a bemused but relieved look pass between the king and his future champion and snickered quietly.

"You know that you will never be able to avoid court entaglments entirely ever," Llane drawled and Medivh shrugged.

"If I'm not in court, how can I be bothered with it?" Medivh replied.

"You're not thinking of running away, are you?" Lothar asked warily.

Medivh scoffed. "And leave all the food behind? No, no, I've just found a place where I want to live once I'm old enough to bid you all farewell without too many terrible reprecutions."

"Oh?" Llane asked and Lothar looked curious in spite of his better judgement.

Medivh nodded, eyes becoming distant. "You know Deadwind Pass?"

"Why would you want to live _there_, there's nothing but—"

"There's _magic_ there, Lothar," Medivh murmured distractedly. "It's a nexus, a crossraods of massive amounts of magic. Ley-lines intercect there. It's the perfect place for a mage to live, to be surrounded by such _power_."

Medivh had been distantly aware of the hunger that had slowly suffused his voice, and how it was discomfiting his friends.

_They'll never _truly_ understand,_ Medivh thought as he looked at his friends, and a strange flash of disgust shivered through him at their ignorance, their mortal physicality. Magic was a path to power and knowledge beyond anything normal humans could comprehend and—

Medivh caught himself and gave his friends a small, cautious smile. "But that's the future. Right now I plan on escaping, and you can feel free to join me or simmer in the boredom that meetings easily provide."

"All the talk is confusing, and I need fresh air. I haven't had time to practice recently," Lothar said off-hand, which made Llane sigh.

"I guess they can do without the heir-apparent for a while," Llane murmured.

"Well, now that we're in agreement, shall we?" Medivh only half-asked as a teleportation spell swirled around them, and whisked them away from the palace.


	9. The Opera Hall

**Author**: Little ficlet because I've been listening to the Opera Hall music. It has a companion that will be posted tomorrow.

**Disclaimer**: Really? _Really_?

**The Opera Hall**

Medivh sat quietly amongst the ghosts in the Opera Hall and listened to the phantasmal notes of the long-forgotten organ waft through the still air.

He remembered when the Opera Hall had been added—through a small mistake he had ended up transporting it through time and space, plopping it adjacent to Karazhan (obviously killing everyone inside in the process, but that was a detail). He had disliked its random appearance, so had found a way to incorporate it into the Tower, and it provided its own sort of amusement. Every now and then a performance would drift across the stage, delighting the long-gone theatre-goers and entertaining Medivh.

He found himself humming along to the familiar broken tune that eminated from the spectral organ, its player incapable of learning any other pieces due to its displacement. Still, it was comforting in its sameness when he was driven into and out of madness.

"Master, there is someone who wishes to meet you."

Medivh turned slightly to look at Morose, who stood nearby, blinders keeping him safe from the ghosts that surrounded Medivh.

"Another spy," Medivh sighed. "Show him in, but I'll not meet him."

"As the Master commands," Morose said in his flat monotone before turning away, and Medivh could count his shuffling steps as he left the Opera House.

The ghosts that passed around and through Medivh whispered half-secrets, gifted him with images from the past and a multitude of futures. He reached out and tangled his fingers in a phantom, and the ghost jerked, its mouth opening in surprise. A hard yank on Medivh's part unraveled the energy and memories that created the ghost and Medivh smiled faintly as the information and power trickled through him.

Within the shards of the past lay the shadows of the future. Mankind was doomed to repeat itself ad nauseum, the same mistakes occurring over and over into infinity.

Unless he changed it.

Unless he broke the clockwork.

Medivh stood, a familiar darkness beginning to invade his thoughts, and a malign smirk pulled at his lips.

He wouldn't just break the clockwork, he'd _shatter_ it.


	10. Musical Memories

**Author**: I like Medivh, so whenever I hit a block I tend to gravitate back to him, as hard as he was to get a hold of initially. Admittedly, this is Khadgar, but, still.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned WoW, Medivh wouldn't be confined to Karazhan and Khadgar would be doing other things then zenning in Shattarath. 

**Musical Memories**

Khadgar found the music of the Opera House unnerving. Every now and then he'd have to walk by the open space, and his steps would speed up in passing. Medivh had never told him _why_ he would have an _Opera_, of all things, in his Tower, and, frankly, Khadgar didn't want to know.

The area simply creeped him out, and since it did, that made him wildly curious.

As he was walking to grab his lunch, the sound of an organ playing drifted out, making him stop and turn.

He squirmed and fought with himself before he sighed, turned, and headed into the Opera House.

There was nothing particularly intimidating about the room. Empty benches in disrepair were scattered across the marble floor, and in the corner an enormous organ was embedded.

Ghostly music was being pulled from the depths of the organ, the lower notes resonating through Khadgar's body. He swore he could hear whispers from all around him, snippets of conversation just outside his hearing. He was about to leave when a chill descended on him and a muted voice speaking in a heavy Lordaeron accent filtered through the ages to reach out into the Opera House. Khadgar turned and looked at the stage, and the curtain slowly parted under long-dead hands.

Khadgar was enraptured by the tale of two star-crossed lovers, the ghostly actors adding an even sadder air to the tale.

He sat down on a bench, idly praying it wouldn't break, only to have everything sharpen and come into focus as something _strange_ whispered through him.

He turned his head and saw an Opera House changed—light filtered through unseen and impossible windows, sending golden shadows across costumes that were fit for a trip to the Opera. Men and women laughed and talked, all in hushed voices filled with anticipation. The curtains the hid the stage were a deep, soft burgundy, the floor a polished, beautiful marble, the benches made from warm brown oak. Voices spoke of a lost time, although he felt that there were one or two brief, fleeting visions that walked among the faded memories of the past.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Khadgar jumped and looked over his shoulder to see Medivh standing a few paces away in an outfit very different from either his traveling clothes or the robes he wore around the Tower.

"Y-You can see everything?"

Medivh quirked an eyebrow and turned his gaze to the stage. "Young Trust, you should know the answer to that by now."

Khadgar couldn't help the nervous smile that formed on his face and, unlike most visions that captured him in Karazhan, the Opera House faded away slowly, almost like the curtain was being drawn across the past, separating him from it.

Khadgar found both himself and Medivh in their normal clothing and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Master. I was distracted."

Medivh game him a slight, enigmatic smile. "The music can get a little repetitive and they have a repertoire of three shows. I recommend staying infrequently in the Opera House. The ghosts and visions are more potent here than most other places in the Tower."

"How did it get here, anyway?" Khadgar asked slowly. "I can't see you _wanting_ it here."

Medivh shrugged dismissively, "I made a minor miscalculation."

Khadgar's eyebrows snapped up. "A _minor_ miscalculation led to _this_?"

Medivh nodded and stroked his beard. "Any larger and Karazhan might not be where it is today, or an entire city may have been plopped upon it."

Khadgar stared. "What were you trying to do?"

"You missed lunch," Medivh said. "Cook said you were looking a little under the weather, so she saved you some when I said that you should be allowed to starve for neglecting to come. If you get there quickly, it might still be warm."

Khadgar frowned as Medivh walked away, the man muttering quietly to himself and gesticulating to the air.

Once the Magus was out of sight, Khadgar sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Lunch," he murmured aloud before readjusting the hold on his books and walking quickly away from the Operal House, ephermeral music following him out.


	11. Vacation

**Author**: When all other inspiration fails, write Medivh.

**Disclaimer**: Can you imagine how badass it would be if you ended up finishing Karazhan fighting a memory/ghost of Medivh instead of the random eredar?

**~Vacation~**

Medivh slowly turned the letter over in his hand, the seal looking back at him accusingly.

_It _has_ been a while since I paid my 'friends' a visit, albeit with good reason,_ he thought with a soft sigh. _But…_

Medivh sat back in his chair before the quiet inquiry of "Master?" fluttered through the room.

Medivh scowled briefly at the air before turning in his chair to face his apprentice. "What—_yes_! That's _it_!"

"Sir?" Khadgar asked warily, a pile of books precariously perched in his arms.

"Llane has more-or-less ordered me to come see him in Stormwind. I hate going there unless it's for a valid purpose aside from 'People need to be reminded you actually exist.' _You_ can come with me!"

"B-but, Master, shouldn't—" Khadgar began.

"Nonsense, boy," Medivh chided Khadgar as he stood. "You should see politics in action. Light knows that you're going to be subjected to it soon enough."

"But, I've already met—"

"It won't hurt to meet them again," Medivh said over his protests. "And anyway, you're a Lordaeron native and have spent most of your life in Dalaran, yes? So it'll give you an opportunity to tour the place."

"But, Master—nevermind, how long are we going to be there?" Khadgar said with morose acceptance in his voice as he put down his burden of books.

"As short as possible," Medivh said cheerfully, ignoring his apprentice's put-out manner.

"Then why go in the first place?"

Medivh's expression fell and he sighed heavily. "Because they're the only friends I have."

Khadgar made a sound that might have been an apology, but Medivh waved it away. "It doesn't matter. Friends end up being liabilities. It's much safer for them."

"But…doesn't it get _boring_ not to have visitors?"

"Young Trust, I have you, I have my magic, and I have the rest of the world to keep me occupied. Who needs visitors when you are constantly working to keep people safe from themselves?" Medivh asked, incredulity thick in his voice.

Khadgar sighed in a long-suffering manner. "I don't have a choice anyway, do I? I'll go pack. I assume we'll be leaving soon?"

"Bah, don't bother packing. Llane will be more than happy to provide for us."

"Are you sure? Certainly he has better—"

"If I don't take anything with me, I can't leave it behind, now can I? And that way I won't have to return to get it."

"Why do you dislike visiting your _friends_ so much?"

"It's not that I dislike seeing them," Medivh protested, "so much as I can think of a thousand other things that I could be doing with my time."

"You know, maybe they're trying to make you take a _vacation_."

Medivh blinked. "What?"

"Like you said, you're always so busy that maybe taking a few days off away from magic would do you good."

Medivh frowned. "How can I take a break from magic when it is _everywhere_?"

"I mean practicing it. Using it. Let _other_ people handle things, if just for a little bit. You're only human—surely you get tired sometimes."

_'Only human,' he says,_ Medivh through wryly. _Although, I _am_ tired of worrying about the world. I don't need to let my guard down in front of Anduin and Llane, though. That would be…well, the consequences could be disastrous._

…_or something I could use to my advantage._

The thought was placed in Medivh's head and he found himself snapping his fingers, reality warping around them before depositing them just outside Stormwind in Elwynn Forest.

Khadgar stumbled for a moment, which made Medivh's lips curl up in a cruel smirk.

"Come, then," Medivh drawled. "It's not good to keep the King of Stormwind waiting, hm?"

He caught Khadgar giving him a wary look and turned away from him, a familiar darkness pulling at his soul and filling his thoughts as he walked into Stormwind.


	12. Fear

**Author**: Medivh is too much fun. And _now_ I like his dad. WTH, self. WTH.

**Disclaimer**: lawl

**Fear**

Every now and then, Medivh had the perverse desire to visit his past. He vaguely recalled his father—he hadn't known the man for terribly long nor terribly well. Somehow, though, his father had found his way through the mists of time and space to make his way into Karazhan. He knew that he had not come with Karazhan, that there had been a definite time that the shade of Aran had come into being.

Perhaps the ghost had somehow felt Medivh's darkening soul. Perhaps some fragment from when he had died trying to contain the power that had flooded and overwhelmed him had been left within Medivh, which drew Aran to him.

Perhaps it was the universe's last-ditch effort to turn Medivh away from raining destruction, death, and blood onto the denizens of Azeroth in the form of the orcish Horde that he had helped create.

Well, that Kil'jadeen and Archimonde, who were Sargeras', and therefore _his_, lieutenants, had created.

It was only a matter of time until Sargeras' body was retrieved.

And after that…who knew what would happen to Medivh?

Medivh frowned as he watched the ghost of his father pace the circular room, gesturing wildly to himself and muttering in the arcane tongue.

It appeared that madness ran in the family.

_What will happen to Medivh once Sargeras' body is retrieved?_ He wondered as he leaned on his Greatstaff. _Will Medivh disappear? Will Medivh be left in his fragile human body while Sargeras takes his true, powerful, demonic form? Will Medivh die in the transfer? Will Sargeras take Medivh with him, Medivh becoming a passenger in a body not his own?_

_Is he not a stranger in his own body, anyway?_ Medivh thought with bitter detachment.

Silence suddenly reigned in the Library as Medivh's former father quieted and looked sharply over to Medivh.

Medivh knew that the ghost was unable to fully see him, but was cognizant enough of his presence.

"Back to kick an old man when he's down?" he said, cold venom in his voice.

Medivh smiled faintly and thumbed his staff.

"Why do you stay here?" Medivh asked.

Aran scoffed. "Shouldn't the answer be obvious?"

Medivh cocked an eyebrow. "I can think of a multitude of reasons why you would remain here," Medivh replied.

Aran's features tightened and he did his best to catch Medivh's eyes, which was hard for a ghost to do to a mortal, as they existed in two different phases of existence.

Still, Medivh was surprised when his former father succeeded.

"I am here because _you_ are here, my son," Aran replied, his voice breaking slightly.

Medivh frowned slightly. "I didn't call you here. I don't _want_ you here."

Aran's shoulders slumped. "Do you think I want to be here either, my son? But you're not _really_ my son, are you? My son wouldn't seek to destroy his home."

Medivh scowled and looked away, his fingers tightening.

_Why does it matter? He's dead—long, long dead. He's nothing but another of Karazhan's memories, visions—_

"I've seen your apprentice."

Medivh looked up sharply. "He shouldn't be able to get in here."

Aran smiled faintly. "Your tower works strangely. He saw me in a vision, once, and I saw him in a memory. He's passed by this door a thousand thousand times, Medivh. Are you so ashamed of your father that I might not impart some of _my _knowledge to him?"

"That's exactly _why_ you can't meet him," Medivh snapped.

Silence fell between them before Aran said, "Why?"

Medivh blinked.

"Why are you scared? Surely you have all the power you need to defend yourself against him and your former friends should they try to kill you to end your suffering."

"I'm not scared," Medivh replied haughtily. "I have nothing to be afraid of—not from you, nor anyone else."

As Medivh turned to leave the Library, his father's voice caught him up short:

"You fear your heart."

Medivh turned slowly back, a dark scowl forming on his features. "My _heart_?"

"My son, you _care_ for the boy. His opinion of you matters unlike anyone else's. You fear his fear, his disapproval, his anger towards you."

"Nonsense," Medivh replied, but his voice sounded weak to his ears. "Khadgar is expendable. Just another mortal. I can toss him aside as easily as I could a dirty towel."

Aran's features softened slightly and he crossed the room so he stood an arm's length away from Medivh.

"You teach him well, my son, because you know he is your salvation and demise."

"Silence!" Medivh snarled and thrust his hand out, dispelling the ghost, if only temporarily.

Medivh spat an unkind word in the High Elf language, but he found that he couldn't rid himself of the shaky feeling that rattled through his mind and magic.

_My salvation? _He thought and shook his head dismissively. _Foolishness._

He walked out of the library, his staff clicking quickly and decisively as he stalked off towards his chambers, dark and violent thoughts roiling through him.

"Master?"

Medivh's steps slowed and he turned to face his apprentice as the boy ran up to him, obviously having been looking for him.

"Master!" the boy repeated, jubilation in his voice. "I have something I want to show you."

"Very well," Medivh heard himself say.

_Get him alone, remove him as a threat, he's the only thing that is blocking all our careful plans,_ Medivh thought distantly, and could feel the dark power buzzing at his fingertips.

The boy wouldn't feel anything at all. He would die without having suspected Medivh of being anything other than a powerful, eccentric mage. No-one would mourn his disappearance or inquire into it—accidents happened all the time, afterall, and Medivh didn't exactly keep a close eye on his apprentice.

But, strangely…

"I'm sure I've seen what you're going to show me before," Medivh drawled, which made Khadgar gave him an amused look.

"Yeah, well. While you might have seen the _result_, you might not have seen the _process_. I do think differently than you, Master."

Medivh smirked and shook his head condescendingly. "Of course the apprentice claims to know more than the master."

Khadgar rolled his eyes, and Medivh was surprised by the comfortable silence that fell between them.

_He was right,_ Medivh thought with consternation. _He _is_ right, damn him. Ah, Khadgar. How am I ever going to kill you?_


	13. Eventualities

**Author**: Merry Medivh Christmas! :D Also-General Zargon, I heart you so much for giving me some awesome pre-holiday presents. :3

**Disclaimer**: Trol lol lol lol loooo lol lol lol looool

**~Eventualities~**

Medivh shook his head in derision as another would-be assistant left the Tower in a hurry.

_He lasted longer than most—a week, two? Not bad._

He tapped his fingers on the wood of Ate'ish as his cloak fluttered about him in the wind that whipped around the Master's Terrace, loose strands of time brushing against him, affording him flashes of pasts and futures, most having nothing to do with him.

_That_ was the most irritating part. He existed within and without the flow of time that warped around Karazhan, so he saw possibilities for more than just himself. It was why he occasionally hosted a banquet or two, just to give the Tower other people to bother.

A small town had cropped up around his home as a way-point for travelers more than anything else. Deadwind Pass, as it would later be known, wasn't much in the way of scenery, and even less in terms of hospitability. He felt some affection for the villagers, but more often paternal annoyance. Guardian of Tirisfal he may be, but he didn't want to be the main economic source of the small group who attached themselves to his Tower.

None among them were mages, with good reason. The…_strangeness_…surrounding Karazhan tended to wear on those with any magical talent, and most often drove them away with the dreams and visions that the magical nexus breathed.

Still, it was nice to have a source of servants. Cook and Morose sufficed well enough usually, and Khadgar—

Medivh frowned. _Who?_

Medivh's fingers ceased their idle movement as he tilted his hands and grabbed a few strands of time that brushed against his face. He twined them against his fingers before letting them go, and a vision slowly formed before him.

A young man, obviously Dalaran trained from his clothing and baggage. He was not from a noble background, but of noble bearing. He would be young enough to be idealistic, but old enough to be cautious. He would be a handful, stubborn and willful, but not arrogant. He would be a fast learner, the perfect student for the demanding training Medivh would subject him to. He would actually survive the Tower, at least until Medivh's plans had born their fruits. He would be everything that Medivh wanted in an apprentice and needed in his assassin.

Medivh stroked his beard and smiled slowly. _Khadgar. Yes, ys, you will do nicely. I wonder when you'll be sent to me. Perhaps I should send those fools at Dalaran a letter saying that I am willing to take an apprentice of their choosing. We'll see. There's so much to attend to first, so much more to do before I can begin to groom my murderer._

Medivh hummed an old, light tune from his childhood as he vanished back into the Tower, slowly, carefully planning out his death.


	14. Magic's Lover

**Author**: Another snippet. Medivh has been with me lately, and I think I'm beginning to coax him into considering a longer story. We'll see how the Master Mage reacts to me cornering him for such a long span of time :P

**Disclaimer**: I don't even own Ate'ish in game ):

**~Magic's Lover~**

There were times, as when Medivh watched Khadgar's mind furiously work over the latest chess game they had started, that Medivh wondered what it would have been like to grow up. To go through puberty, to have crushes over girls as they became women, to have acne and growth spurts and hear his voice break. However, he had fallen into a coma as a fourteen-year-old and had awoken in his mid-thirties. What most people would consider the prime of his life had passed as he slept, and upon waking he was so much more and less than what he had been when his powers had burst forth in him.

"Master?"

Medivh looked at his apprentice after moving a bishop. "Khadgar, did you have a lover when you were in Dalaran?"

Khadgar stared at him, bewildered. "Pardon?"

Medivh quirked an eyebrow. "Did I stutter?"

"No, master," Khadgar said quickly and moved a pawn. "It's just an odd question."

"And one you believe to be irrelevant."

Khadgar's lips quirked in what threatened a smile. "Have _you_ ever had a lover, master?"

Medivh took Khadgar's pawn. "It's no use, trying to be evasive."

Khadgar hummed and moved a knight. "Why do you care? It isn't as if that would affect my abilities as your apprentice."

"Memories are potent things, Young Trust," Medivh answered. "A wavering focus can have significant consequenses."

"Even if I did, it's not as if you risk having someone banging down Karazhan's door," Khadgar said dryly.

Medivh snickered and moved a castle before he sat back and regarded the youth before him. "I believe I know the answer anyway."

Khadgar gave Medivh a wary look as the master mage watched him. "I doubt you're privy to _all_ the secrets in the world."

Medivh shook his head condescendingly. "Magic, my boy, _magic_. She's been your lover since you first tasted her." Medivh smiled faintly. "Although she can be a fairly fickle mistress."

Khadgar shook his head in disbelief and amusement. "Knowledge for knowledge's sake. Power for power's sake. Magic for magic's sake. Perhaps that is enough. Perhaps it will always be enough," he said and moved his king. "Check."

"And if it is not?"

"I'll deal with that when it arises."

"One must always plan for eventualities," Medivh chided as he moved his queen. "Checkmate, Young Trust."

As Medivh set up the chess board again, Kahdgar muttering darkly to himself about how Medivh must have cheated somehow, he had to strain to keep a wistful smile off his face.

"Do you want a lover besides magic, master?"

Medivh blinked and looked up from placing a white pawn back on Khadgar's side of the board. His vision briefly swam as Karazhan projected the image of a woman standing slightly behind Khadgar, and he frowned slightly.

"I do not need anything beside my magic," he heard himself say as the vision vanished. "Except perhaps an apprentice or two to keep my library in order."

Medivh fingered the black king before setting it back in its place.

"As you say, master," Khadgar replied.

Medivh pushed away from the table and stood. "I'll see you at dinner."

As he left the library he brushed past a vision of the half-orc, half-dranei who would be an 'ambassador' to him from the orcs and, if what he saw himself initiating was correct, the mother of his child.

_Even intimacy is planned,_ he thought without bitterness. _My child for the future of this world. Khadgar for its present. And me…ah, well. I will unravel it all for others to patch back as best they can._


	15. Antidote

**Author**: I probably shouldn't be posting these as quickly as I am, but they're fun and short and I don't need to go over them with as fine a comb as my longer works. Oh, wait. As a semi-warning, there is a slash-esq tinge to this chapter. Not that Medivh _cares_ about things like sexual orientation, but some humans do.

**Disclaimer**: I got into WoW too late to get Ate'ish. ):

**~Antidote~**

Medivh started in surprise as Khadgar yelped and coughed on the smoke that he inadvertently inhaled.

"Well, _that_ wasn't supposed to happen," Medivh murmured as Khadgar hacked to get the foreign material out of his lungs.

"What went wrong?" Khadgar asked between spasmodic coughs.

"Probably the ratio of reagents. Or maybe the reagents themselves. It will require some—"

Medivh was cut off as he Khadgar collapsed on the floor.

It was oddly troubling to Medivh, who looked at the youth before him with an emotion that wavered between concern and contempt.

In the end concern won out and he knelt beside the fallen boy and poked him magically and physically; he was surprised at the effort it took for him to avoid being rendered equally insensible. Medivh tapped his fingers together in pensive agitation, a scowl forming on his face.

"You're still too useful to me, boy," he muttered aloud. Medivh reached out and gently placed his hand on Khadgar's forehead and closed his eyes, examining the structure of the spell gone awry.

He removed his hand after a minute and tapped his fingers on his thigh as he thought.

_If I don't do something, he will die. But wouldn't that be a good thing? The one true obstacle would be gone. Garona will mean nothing; she's controlled completely by Gul'dan, beholden to him. She is disposable, and no-one would belive her anyway _if_ she found out my little…secret._

Medivh cupped a hand over Khadgar's mouth, allowing him to capture a few weak breaths. Khadgar had been caught in the backlash by breathing it in—there was a strong liklihood that air would also factor in resuscitating him.

The stale air swirled in Medivh's hand, and he could see flecks of the smoke and magic in it. He poked and broke it into its component parts, eventually stumbling upon uncommon focus, a particular reagent, and Medivh's demon-tainted magic as the cause for Khadgar's state.

_All things remedied easily enough. It would just be a matter of how to administer the antidote in sufficient quantities._

Medivh paused, sighed, then picked Khadgar up with both magic and physical force. Since he couldn't clearly recall where Khadgar's room was (it didn't matter to him), he teleported them both up to his own chambers.

_I have four hours,_ Medivh thought. _And finding a new apprentice would be such a hassle. The hour of my death is coming, and no-one but Khadgar will be able to succeed. _

Medivh thrived on challenges, so set to work immediately.

Creating the antidote was, as he had expected, not terribly difficult. The hardest part was separating the power of Tirisfalen from Sargeras' taint. Distilling it into the focus of restoring Khadgar's health and weaving in the correct opposite reagent took about an hour. Trapping it in vapor form was a little harder, but didn't take much more than an hour as well.

_But, how to administer it? He isn't breathing deeply enough to be able to absorb it on his own,_ Medivh thought as he stood over the unconscious, pale, wheezing young man.

He knew the young man's hourglass was running out quickly, and he _knew_ he was being stupid and missing the obvious solution.

_Forcing this quickly into him will probably be ineffective. It needs to be a steady stream, the same strength as a long deep breath._

He had a few tools that could probably accomplish such, but he'd have to dig through his storerooms (and perhaps his reverse Tower compartments) to find them and he didn't have the time or motivation.

An idea unfolded in his mind that had its merits. The magic could be preserved, he could time the breath right, and it couldn't hurt _him_.

_Might as well,_ he thought with a shrug.

Medivh propped his apprentice up against the headboard and sat beside him. He placed the bottle he had the vapor contained in against his own lips, unsealed it so that he held the air in his mouth, and then pressed his lips to Khadgar's, breathing into him. Once he was sure the vapor had transferred, he pulled away, stood up, and walked over to his desk to make notes and wait.

He knew that he wasn't wrong, and the antidote _would_ work. It was simply a matter of Time.

He heard his apprentice's breathing slowly even out into a normal rhythm and looked over to see Khadgar giving him a bewildered, dazed look.

"Master?" he croaked, coughed, and then said in a surer tone: "What happened?"

Medivh shrugged. "An experiment went wrong, you suffered the consequences, I found, made, and administered the antidote."

Khadgar hummed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "And you had to _kiss me_ to administer it?"

Medivh shrugged again. "It was the simplest way."

"You couldn't figure out anything else?"

"It worked, did it not?"

Khadgar shifted uncomfortably. "It did."

"Then why bother complaining about the method?"

"Because…because…" Khadgar trailed off. "You wouldn't care anyway," he concluded weakly.

Medivh finished jotting a note down before he said, "It is because we're both men?"

Khadgar flushed as Medivh grinned savagely.

"Ah, Young Trust," Medivh said condescendingly. "I suppose that there are still prejudices and misonceptions I have yet to rid you of."

"And I suppose that you're the very picture of tolerance," Khadgar drawled and sat up straighter.

It seemed to take him a moment to register that he was in _Medivh's_ bed, and the master mage couldn't stop from cackling at how the poor boy's ears turned red.

"Oh, you are too much fun," Medivh snickered.

"What, are _you_…?"

Medivh tapped the feather of his quill on the desk. "Are _you_?"

Khadgar took a moment longer than appropriate to respond. "I've always been too busy," he said eventually. "And no-one has been able to match me in terms of power and intellect."

It was easy to read the unconscious confession that Khadgar was making:

_Not before you._

Medivh sat back in his chair and stroked his beard, keeping his face unreadable. "So, tell me, what do _you_ think went wrong in our experiment?"

Khadgar blinked, then forcibly shifted his thoughts. "Well, because it failed in such a spectacular fashion, that meant we were close to accomplishing our goal. I would first start with changing the reagent, since that is the most controllable of materials."

Medivh nodded absently. "What would you substitute?"

Khadgar frowned at the sheets, seemed to re-realize he was sitting in his master's bed, and quickly slid off the piece of furniture. He composed himself, and walked to beside his master. "Well, there are a number which we could substitute."

"But each could potentially yield a completely different response."

"Yes, well, you _do_ happen to have a rather expansive stock," Khadgar drawled, which made Medivh fight back a smirk.

"You shouldn't take for granted what I can provide for you."

"Yes, master."

"But, do go on. Let's see how inventive you can be."


	16. Preparations

**Author**: Short chapter is short. Medivh has his moods, and has decided to sequester himself in the dark corner of my mind he usually resides in. Alas.

**Disclaimer**: I want a raven battle pet to drop in Karazhan so I can name it Medivh. ):

**~Preparations~**

Medivh stood in front of a map of the known world and sighed.

Azeroth—Stormwind—his fingers ran over the fascimilie of Elwynn Forest, Westfall, Redridge, his own home. His eyes traced the curves of Khaz Modan's territories before skipping over Lordaeron, Perinolde, Stromgarde, and Gilneas. The secretive kingdom of the Quel'dorei claimed the uppermost reaches of the sheet. His fingers came to rest, however, on Dalaran.

_It is time._

Medivh knew his doom would come from Dalaran, that his salvation would be in the form of a student of the Kirin Tor. He even knew the boy's name, his appearance, his voice.

Medivh's…altercation…with his mother had shown him that his own hourglass was beginning to run out.

He would have to word the letter carefully. One wrong word, one unclear phrase, could land him with the wrong apprentice. It had to be Khadgar and no other.

_I need him as much as he will need me. Only through my training will he be able to unravel the plans that I have so carefully set into motion. _

Medivh turned from the map and walked to his desk, the necessary tools already present and prepared for him. He sat down, picked up the quill, and smiled maliciously.

"To my most _esteemed_ colleagues…"


	17. Parenthood

**Author:** Have some Nielas Aran.

**Disclaimer**: Waiting on that raven battle-pet, Blizz.

**~Parenthood~**

"_This is your son. His name is Medivh. My duties prevent me from rearing a child. You are his father—I leave him in your care_."

Nielas Aran looked at the baby in his arms and swallowed hard. He had never thought that becoming a father would be so…intimidating. He didn't even have any idea as to where to _begin._

_He's so…small. Fragile,_ Neilas thought as he sat down, Medivh cradled against him. _What do I do now? She said she has weaned him, but…what now?_

The baby—his _son_—opened his eyes, and Nielas smiled wryly.

_He has his mother's eyes,_ he thought and brushed a fine brown-black lock of hair away from his forehead.

His son gave him a wide, innocent smile, and Nielas felt butterflies churn in his stomach.

_I will protect him. I will teach him—for there is no doubt that there is power within him. He will grow up among nobles, alongside the prince. He will want for nothing._

Medivh grabbed at Nielas' finger and Nielas chuckled as his son examined it.

"You'll be no warrior, eh?" he said lightly, a tingle of acknowledgement, of kinship of both blood and magic communicating through the simple touch.

Medivh cooed before beginning to squirm in his arms. Nielas briefly panicked at the obvious abrupt shift in mood and searched his mind for anything at all that could help him. He saw Medivh's chubby legs kicking and carefully stood his son up on his knees, supporting him firmly, hands tucked in his armpits.

His child's mood shifted abruptly again as he kicked his legs out in practice of standing and gave Neilas a smile that Nielas recognized as his own.

"You'll be a charmer, for certain," Nielas told his son, who simply blew a raspberry at him.

Nielas laughed and placed his forehead against his son's, who gurgled.

However, the stench that hit Neilas a moment later made him jerk abruptly away, although Medivh couldn't look more pleased with himself.

Nielas sighed. "Perhaps I will recruit help. I'm sure that one of the ladies will be more than willing to help me."

Medivh began to cry at the continued presence of his bowel-movement and Nielas picked him up carefully.

_They don't teach how to change diapers along with conjurations. Perhaps they should._

Being a father wasn't going to be easy, and would require much adaptation on his part, but he'd figure it out. Afterall, it couldn't be _that_ much harder than his mage training.

Right?


	18. Awakening

**Author**: He talks, I listen. It's a small distraction from taht original piece of fiction I should be writing for school.

**Disclaimer**: If only more quest lines involved the mad magus...

**~Awakening~**

Medivh's eyes slowly opened. He felt weak, drained, lifeless, even though he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

He felt…taller. Broader.

Stranger.

He turned his head to the side and felt facial hair scrape against the pillow his head rested on, and longer head-hair slid over his too-thin neck and shoulder.

_I am…awake?_ He wondered, his thoughts sluggish even though an urgency was roiling through him. He had things to do, people to see, power to use, plots to make. He couldn't be lying in the Light-forsaken bed that had been his tomb for—

_For how long?_ He wondered. It had been nearly impossible to determine time caught in the web of power and darkness that he had fought.

Medivh slowly, carefully, moved his arm, the effort overwhelming, and a part of him sneered at his weakness. He shifted his apendige out from beneath the blanket and looked at his hand, _stared_ at his hand.

His memory was less than reliable, but he was pretty sure that his hand hadn't been quite so large before. He squirmed in his bed and slowly inched himself up so his back was against the headrest, and panted from the effort.

He _was_ larger than he remembered being.

He traced the contours of his upper body, finding a longer torso, longer legs, more definition and less awakwardness at his elbows and knees. He coughed as he attempted to speak, and even the _cough_ sounded deeper.

_By the Light,_ he breathed inwardly. _How much time has passed? Years, obvioucly, but, how many years? He…_

Medivh turned in the bed, the sheets tangling around a body he was completely unfamiliar with. He rested his feet on the floor and carefully stood, holding onto the bedpost to steady himself. He was hit with vertigo at the movement, and clung to the bedpost as his stomach flip-flopped.

Everything seemed somehow smaller, even though he knew that _couldn't_ be the case.

Or could it? With the power he had inherited, maybe he warped reality around himself. And with…well, who knew what was possible when a monster sought control of your soul?

He caught a quick glimpse of _someone_ in a mirror and jumped, sucking in a startled breath as he sent up a quick prayer that whoever it was wasn't out to harm him. He couldn't fight back, he didn't know how he worked anymore.

A man stood before him, dressed in the palid garb of an invalid. Jade eyes, unkempt brown-black hair with a few odd strands of grey fell to his shoulders, sporting a carefully maintained beard of the same color. Given time, some exercise, and more substantial food, Medivh could tell the person before him would fill out the lithe, strong frame that was hinted at. He raised a hand to reach towards the man, only to find the reflection moved with him.

Medivh looked between the gesture and the person until it dawned on him that he was looking at_ himself._

He swallowed hard, and watched his adam's apple bob in the mirror. A shudder of horror and disgust ran through him.

_Who is this man? Whose body is this?_

**One that I have lovingly maintained for you.**

Medivh gripped his head and bent over slightly, his other hand tightening on the wood of the bedpost.

Guardian.

Sargeras.

His birthright and doom.

"Light preserve me," he murmured in a voice not his own, and a ringing, mocking laugh echoed through his being.

No Light could save him.

While he was ignorant of many things—such as how much time had passed, but time was a fluid thing—he knew quite well what had happened during the time he was submerged in a darkness he could barely fend off. There were things to do—_urgent_ matters. He had spent enough time catatonic. With the new power at his hands, the possibilities before him were…breathtaking.

"Sir Medivh, you're awake!"

Medivh turned faster than was probably adviseable to face the speaker—a cleric—but managed to maintain his composure and upright status.

It took a moment to find his voice. "I am," he replied in the hoarse, deep, foreign tone that was newly his. "And there is much to do."


	19. Connections

**Author**: When inspiration fails, I pay Medivh a visit. He always has a cup of tea ready for me.

**Disclaimer**: I barely make my bills.

**~Connections~**

Medivh knew that Khadgar was planning something, but also knew that whatever it was wouldn't interfere with his work, and so let the boy have his 'secret'. It wasn't as if he couldn't pry it from his apprentice's words and actions easily enough—he just couldn't be bothered to. There were nations to topple, afterall—what was the scheming of one apprentice compared to that? Especially if said apprentice was in the palm of his hand.

"Master?"

Medivh looked away from the latest gnomish invention he had managed to get his hands on. Nothing seemed terribly out of place regarding the young man, but there was an air about him that said the 'secret' he had been keeping was going to be willingly revealed.

"Yes, Young Trust?" Medivh asked, mildly irritated at being interrupted.

_Why ever did I decide that having an apprentice was a good thing? _He wondered as he watched Khadgar approach, both purpose and anxeity in his stride. _Having one is annoying, I have to be careful anymore. Better to just kill him now. I can arrange for Lothar to kill me or—_

Medivh was caught off guard when Khadgar gently, carefully hugged him.

Medivh hadn't had much in the way of physical contact since…well, since before he fell into his coma. People were afraid of him, afraid of what getting close enough to touch him might do to _them_.

Khadgar pulled back after a second, although he kept his hands on Medivh's arms.

"Well…you didn't tell me your birthday, so I picked a day. But then I couldn't figure out what a Master Mage would like as a present, since you already have more books than I think any other sane person could read in a lifetime, and I don't get away from Karazhan much. So, since you've been in a _mood_ lately, I figured that something silly and simple that most take for granted would be the best gift."

Medivh knew that the boy would continue to ramble in the face of his shocked silence, but Medivh was having a hard time processing someone _wanting_ to do something for him without expecting anything in return.

"Young Trust," he said and couldn't stop the small, rueful smile that tugged at his lips.

Khadgar smiled carefully back and released his grip on Medivh's arms.

Medivh was astonished at how sharp the feeling of lonliness was that hit him. He was suddenly, inexplicably cold and his body ached for the touch that had, if temporarily, cleared his thoughts of the darkness that had been plaguing him.

"I…I'm sorry, Master," Khadgar murmured and rubbed the back of his neck in self-conciousness. "I just thought that maybe…" he trailed off before picking up another thought: "Cook let me make a birthday cake for you."

Medivh was bewildered, but kept it from showing on his face. _For me_?

"I don't promise it being the best cake ever, certainly nothing like what you must've had in Stormwind, but—"

Khadgar abruptly quieted when Medivh put a careful hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "You're a fool, Young Trust, but a well-meaning one." He caught Khadgar's chin and made him look at him, holding his eyes. "Thank you."

Medivh was amused by how Khadgar's breath caught, and was intrigued at the pleasant, warm tingle he received from such simple _contact_.

It was enough to make him want more, but he knew enough that his desires were secondary to his plans.

"You're welcome," Khadgar said softly.

Medivh tried to force himself to let go, but it felt so _nice_ to have another mortal touching him in a way not purely meant to heal. It was personal, it recognized Medivh as _Medivh_ and not as just another body.

So he was not as surprised as he maybe should have been when _he_ dragged Khadgar back for another hug.

"Thank you," Medivh murmured again into Khadgar's ear.

"Happy Birthday, Master," Khadgar replied breathlessly.

The young man's lips lightly brushed against his neck as he spoke, and it was only through force of will that Medivh didn't jump.

There was something _else_ in that contact, brief and innocent as it may have seemed. Something that Medivh didn't understand and that Sargeras raged at.

Perhaps Khadgar had come to see him as something slightly more than his teacher.

Perhaps he had begun to see Khadgar as more than just his assassin.

Medivh let go and held Khadgar's eyes again, searching for something, _anything_ that would explain the shiver in his magic that said that there could be other, deeper reasons for Medivh accepting Khadgar as his own.

"I assume the…cake…will be served after dinner, and as dinner is yet an hour or so away, that means you have time to help me finish deconstructing this," Medivh said as evenly as he could, even though each step away from Khadgar sent both his body and magic yelling at him, calling him thousands of kinds of fool.

Khadgar had to clear his throat before he could say, "Yes, Master."

_Come, now, Medivh,_ Medivh chided himself as he turned the globe over in his hands, picking out the subtle hinges and locks to open it. _You're not a teenager._

Medivh paused at the thought and tapped his fingers lightly against the metal. _Not that I know what being a teenager is like._

Medivh was slowly unwinding a wire when his valet's voice interupted his concentration: "Master?"

"Yes?" Medivh replied and looked up from the pile that had once been an intact sphere to see Morose standing dourly in the doorway.

"Dinner is ready," the valet intoned in his wheezy, musty voice.

_Has time passed that quickly?_

Medivh's eyes darted over to Khadgar, who was doing an admirable job of restraining a smile. Medivh put the remnants of the globe down on an uncluttered piece of desk and walked past his apprentice.

"Come. We don't want the food to be cold, do we?"

"No, Master," Khadgar replied, a suppressed laugh in his voice.

Medivh found himself oddly aware of where Khadgar was in relation to him as they took the stairs to the dining room, ghostly music floating through the hallways.

Medivh stopped abruptly when they reached the dining room, which surprised Khadgar enough to run into him.

The contact sent shivers through his magic and Medivh winced inwardly at the dawning realization.

"Do you like it?" Khadgar asked as he straightened his clothing and stood beside Medivh.

The dining hall was decorated festively, although sparingly. Medivh was fairly sure that Khadgar had raided the stores to find whatever was left over from the last banquet Medivh had held to entertain the ghosts of Karazhan, and had made rather ingeneous use of it.

"Master?"

Medivh hummed and said, "Perhaps we can have the cake first, just so we can get it over with."

Khadgar huffed in annoyance, although the wry smile that dragged at the corners of his mouth told him that Khadgar had become far too adept at reading beneath what he said.

Cook bustled out with the small cake once he and Khadgar had sat down, and Medivh regarded the plainly-decorated confection with intrigue.

"Do you mind chocolate?" Khadgar asked as he lit the candle stuck in the middle of the cake with a flick of his fingers.

"No-one has ever asked,"Medivh said as he watched the dancing flame set before him. "You're getting better."

"Hm?"

"Your control."

"Thank you, Master."

"What do I do now?"

The look of surprise on Khadgar's face made Medivh scowl.

"I sing 'happy birthday' to you, then you blow out the candles and make a wish. Then we cut the cake and eat it. Didn't you…?"

"My birthday was never observed," Medivh muttered, glaring at the candle.

"_No-one_ ever sung for you?"

Medivh's scowl deepened as the aching sense of _lack_ flowed through him. He didn't often lament the loss of twenty years of his life, but there were times that it bothered him and made him hate the being that controlled most of his soul.

"Well, you'll have to pardon my singing voice, then."

Medivh looked over to his apprentice, who—for the first time Medivh could recall—sang _happy birthday_ to him.

It made him feel strangely warm and tingly.

_I can't get too attached to him,_ Medivh warned himself. _He is my executioner, afterall._

"Now blow out the candle and wish for something," Khadgar prompted.

"What do I have to wish for?" Medivh drawled, although a flicker of thought obligingly extinguished the feeble flame. "Like you said, I have everything I could possibly want."

The smile Khadgar gave him was worth the inanity of the gestures.

"C'mon, try it, try it," Khadgar insisted and cut the cake for Medivh. "I did my best, but there wasn't a lot to work with in your kitchen."

Cook had the grace to look mildly offended.

Medivh had never been one for sweets, if only because Llane adored them and someone had to be contrary to the heir to keep him in line, but took the conservative slice offered him.

It actually didn't taste as bad as Medivh had feared—then again, he had nothing to compare it to, so it could have been awful.

Something in his face must have shown, however, since he heard Khadgar give a relieved sigh.

"I'd prefer you focus on your magic more than your baking, Young Trust," Medivh said, and Khadgar smiled sheepishly.

"Today was different—it was important."

Medivh blinked. _Important?_

He knew he was important, if only because of his power and bloodline, but Khadgar meant it in a different way, he meant that Medivh was important as _a person_, and not as the Guardian of Tirisfal or the most powerful mage in Azeroth.

Dinner was a silent affair after that, Medivh mulling over the occurances of the past few hours.

_Khadgar is dangerous,_ he concluded. _He can get under my skin. He'll make me hesitate. And, I suppose, that is how he will be my downfall. How he already _is_ my downfall._

Medivh finished most of his dinner before teleporting up to his observatory, taking in a deep breath of the twilight air.

_Resonance,_ he thought as he stroked his beard. _I thought it was myth. I thought that mages simply were contrary. How…interesting._

Medivh pulled down his hood and summoned Ate'ish to him, wrapping his hand around the familiar, comforting, demonic-tainted staff.

_I must stick to my plans. The destruction of Azeroth and the ressurection of Sargeras are what matter. Khadgar is simply a tool, perhaps even a liability._

Medivh turned towards the door that would take him to his upper chambers, but hesitated.

He didn't want to kill him. He _honestly_ didn't want to watch the life drain out of Khadgar's bright, trusting eyes.

**The boy must die.**

Medivh gripped his head and leaned heavily on his staff. _He can still be useful_, he found himself protesting.

Perhaps he had come to see Khadgar as more than just his apprentice.

**He is a distraction.**

_He is necessary._

**You are becoming too attached to him.**

_He is my apprentice._

**Add him to Karazhan's secrets.**

Medivh grit his teeth. _I will not._

**You would challenge me?**

_Khadgar is _mine_,_ Medivh snarled. _He is _my_ apprentice, _my_ responsibility, _mine_ to take care of._

**Your paltry emotions are hindering your judgement.**

Medivh grimaced and leaned heavily on Ate'ish, falling to his knees.

_No. I will destroy nations in Your name, but I will _not_ destroy Khadgar. Not for you._

**Then you are a fool.**

Medivh shuddered as Sargeras seeped into his mind, and snarled as he pushed back. _You will not have Khadgar._

**How long do you think you will last, mage?**

_As long as it takes,_ Medivh replied stubbornly even as he felt his body grow heavy. He slumped onto his side, Ate'ish falling out of unresponsive fingers. _As long as it takes. _

A laugh that was and was-not his echoed in his mind as he pulled Sargeras down with him, denying him his body, if only for a little while.

One last thought flit through him before oblivion and shadows claimed him: _I hope Khadgar finds me soon; it's getting cold and late and I'd rather not freeze to death._


	20. Raven

**Author**: Got a review for this story, decided to poke at Medivh again, and this is what comes of it, especially given what Khadgar can turn into in-game now...

**Disclaimer:** I'd already have my grad school loans paid off if I owned WoW.

**Raven**

Medivh laughed.

He knew it was the exact opposite reaction his apprentice had hoped for, but, in all honesty, there was nothing else that he _could_ do.

"Oh, Young Trust, I was wondering how long it would take for something like this to happen."

The raven that had just finished fighting its way out of now-useless clothes gave Medivh a sullen look.

"So, how do you plan on fixing this?" Medivh asked and propped his staff against the wall before he walked over to the table where Khadgar's notes were and shuffled through them.

"Very tricky," Medivh murmured approvingly. "Attempting to develop this. You _do_ know that shapeshifiting tends to be something that very few manage to accomplish? Not many people are willing to give up their own form for that of another. Most are simply not so…fluid. They're too static, too self-centered, too attached and obsessed with their own appearance. No, it's not that you're _vain,_" Medivh said to Khadgar, whose feathers had ruffled in annoyance. "No, not at all. That you managed to change your form says that you paid at least _some_ attention to what I've been teaching you."

Medivh frowned as he stroked his beard idly as he read a few lines of Khadgar's spell. "Well, well. A rather unique way to go about it. But, I think that here you are falling into the trap of over-thinking. Shapeshifting isn't as hard as you're making it out to be."

A shadow fell over the papers Medivh was looking at and he looked over to see Khadgar standing there awkwardly, tilting his head back and forth in an attempt to read his notes.

"I would suggest that you figure a way back to your human form soon, Young Trust," Medivh said. "Which is, admittedly, much harder than doing the reverse."

Medivh gestured his staff to him and lightly tapped raven-Khadgar on the top of the head, which made the boy-turned-bird squawk at him. "I'll be _kind_ and help you with this one. You have to remember who _Khadgar_ is. No, don't give me that look."

Medivh tapped a line on the parchment with his finger. "Here you're trying to lay out what exactly changing your form entails. What you have here is a child's version, a messy, inelegant one—that, apparently, works well enough to achieve the desired effect. Now, the thing is—did you bring your magic with you?"

Khadgar hopped back and forth, his discomfort obvious.

"If you didn't bring your magic with you, you won't be able to change back into a human."

Khadgar let out a shriek of disbelief.

"Although that you can understand me says that you brought at least a tiny bit with you. If you hadn't brought any at all, you wouldn't be able to _think_. You would have become an animal and I would be without an apprentice."

Medivh carefully laid out the pages in order for Khadgar and said, "That is all the help I'm giving you, Young Trust. Remember who you _are_ as Khadgar. It will be more than physical form, too." Medivh paused before asking, "Although, why a raven? I would have thought you would identify with some other form more."

_Unless the resultant animal was…unintentional,_ Medivh thought and looked at the carved raven that sat perched on the end of his staff.

From how Khadgar had gone to intently studying his work told Medivh more than the boy probably wanted him to know.

Medivh sat down in a nearby chair and called his own work to him, Council business mostly.

The quiet avian vocalizations coming from Khadgar were both irritating and amusing to Medivh. It was obvious the young man was trapped in the form—which made it a purely physical problem. He would simply have to rebuild Khadgar.

_Which takes a more intimate knowledge of one's self than I think he realizes. And I can't help him rebuild himself because I would be making the Khadgar I perceive and not the Khadgar that he actually is._

Medivh smiled tightly and scrolled through _The Song of Aegwynn_ to the first mention of the being that owned his soul and marked it off as the start of cipher.

He was working on the third correspondence (non-Council business, although equally inane) when a raven's caw transformed abruptly into the shocked vocalization of a young human male.

Medivh looked up to laugh again at his apprentice's discomfiture. The young man was pushing himself up into a sitting position, a hand going to his head with a wince. All the papers he had written his spell on were crumpled beneath him, and the books were flopped over onto the floor, his writing utensils squashed beneath the hand propping him up.

Khadgar was also stark naked, which amused Medivh perhaps more than it should have.

"Congratulations," Medivh drawled as he rolled up the scroll containing the epic poem describing his mother's pseudo-defeat of Sargeras. "It only took you a few hours to remember your Self. I'm sure some _master_ mages I know would still be puzzling out their own names."

Khadgar looked over to him, swallowed a few times, coughed, then said, "Yes, well."

Medivh noted idly that the young man's voice was a little deeper, had a timber that was just _slightly_ off, but not enough to be terribly remarkable.

But, Medivh knew his influence when he heard it. He saw it in the decreased presence of the skunk-stripe that had once characterized Khadgar's hair, as well.

_Then do we define ourselves, in part, through others?_ Medivh mused as he tapped his fingers against his staff. _Interesting. Does that mean, then, that I in part define myself by Sargeras?_

It was an uncomfortable notion.

Khadgar was about to say something before his nakedness dawned on him. The young man flushed scarlet, and Medivh managed to scrap together enough kindness to not laugh again at his apprentice's discomfort.

Khadgar grabbed his clothes and scowled at the table; Medivh knew, however, that the true thing he wanted to be glowering at was he.

_But he respects—fears—me enough to not turn what embarrassed ire he may have on me._

"I think you gave yourself a more toned physique than you actually possessed," Medivh said languidly as he looked back at the parchment. "But, the young don't have the same static view of themselves as those older. Your magic will force you back to your original form soon enough."

"I assume you can shapeshift."

"Your assumption would be correct."

Medivh looked back up to see Khadgar pulling his clothes back on, although the motions were absent-minded, his apprentice's mind obviously more on the problem the spell presented than his physical appearance.

_Truly becoming a mage,_ Medivh thought ruefully. _The pursuit of knowledge above all else. A pursuit for truth. A pursuit that will kill me._

"I think I know where I went wrong!" Khadgar exclaimed and began to search through his papers, still only half-dressed.

Medivh put down his quill and stood up, leaving his staff beside the table he had claimed. He walked over to where Khadgar's tunic lay in a pile on the floor and picked up the simple raiment. He could feel that Khadgar's signature had seeped into the very fabric.

_It should have been able to transform with him,_ Medivh thought as he rubbed the cloth between his fingers._ I suppose he simply didn't think of it. I must teach him to think of _all_ variables and possibilities._

"Young Trust."

"Yes, Master?" Khadgar answered, pulling his attention away from furious scribbling to look at his teacher.

"Enough of your magic has saturated the fabric of the clothes that there is no reason you should not still be in them," he said and held the cloth out to his apprentice, who flushed in embarrassment and quickly took it and pulled it on.

"A person can shapeshift and still maintain their clothes before and after the change? _How_?"

"How indeed? I leave you to puzzle that out, Young Trust," Medivh said and patted the young man on the shoulder. "I have business to attend to."

"Out-of-Tower business?"

_Yes and no._ "Yes," he answered aloud as he retrieved A'teish. "I will be back when I am back."

Khadgar didn't bother to constrain a sigh. "Very well, Master."

"Keep your work going, my apprentice, and one day you might actually make a mage of yourself," Medivh said cheerfully before he vanished into the depths of Karazhan.


End file.
